Hunting Dominance
by Dumak
Summary: Obliterating the Dawnguard has only served to fuel the Dragonborn's dominant nature. Now, Molag Bal's champion turns her gaze to the Companions. However, Tamriel is the playground of more than one Daedric Prince, and a reluctant son of Hircine finds himself thrust into opposition against a woman with the soul of a dragon. DragonbornXVilkas.
1. Chapter 1: Destined for battle

Chapter 1: Destined for battle

Pain.

A white-hot, searing pain that threatened to brand her eyes with its fury, squeezing tears of frustration from her eyes. Almerin cursed as she squinted against the sunlight, finally closing her eyes and blindly aiming her arrow towards the sky.

Somewhere to her right, she heard a muffled chuckle.

"You do remember that every time I miss, you are one arrow closer to exsanguination, right?" Almerin snarled, as she selected another arrow from her quiver.

"A fair trade, if I get to see that face again," Serana laughed. Almerin glanced at the vampire balefully, which only served to increase Serana's mirth. Serana screwed her eyes shut and tightened her jaw.

"I am the Dragonborn vampire lord!" Serana intoned in a vague approximation of Almerin's resonant voice. "And the tyranny of the sun is done, but only if I make this face every-"

Almerin elbowed Serana in the side, cutting off her monologue. The damage, however, was already done, as a reluctant grin crept over Almerin's face. Serana's face softened as she smiled back at her friend.

"We should only need one more hour to gather the pelts you need," Serana said. Almerin murmured agreement as she loosed a second arrow, and felt herself relax with the darkening of the sky.

Feeling energy flood back into her muscles, Almerin scanned the coastline, looking for a flash of – _there!_ Almerin soundlessly gestured at the snowy sabre cat, indicating for Serana to follow her to a higher vantage point.

Crouching at the top of the ice shelf, Almerin watched the animal with satisfaction. Skyrim was hers. Mortals scurried across the earth, beholden to their mundane desires, completely unaware that she could change their fates at a whim. Almerin turned her attention to the sabre cat's head, using her newly restored stamina to focus on its eye. One well-aimed arrow would end its life, with minimal damage to the pelt. Almerin caressed her arrow, preparing for release.

"There it is! Kill the beast!"

A young woman in hide armour bolted towards the sabre cat, unsheathing a rudimentary steel sword. Startled, Almerin fired her arrow into the ground, unwilling to risk splattering human blood on her pelt. _How dare she_, Almerin seethed, her lips curling in frustration. Almerin had restrained herself from feeding for several weeks, enjoying the power of her vampire capabilities in combination with the curious thrill she gained from dominating herself. All for naught, as she would now be forced to teach this huntress respect.

Baring her fangs, Almerin sprang towards the huntress, only to find her body pinned firmly to Serana's torso. Almerin whipped her head around to stare at the vampire, suddenly furious.

"Werewolf!" Serana hissed, tightening her grip around Almerin's body.

Almerin stiffened, turning back in time to see an unkempt man with silver eyes stampede towards her sabre cat. _Of course it would attempt close-quarters combat with the sabre cat, _Almerin sneered to herself_. _The Companions eschewed magic, often allocating ranged combat positions to its female members. This left the males to flounder aimlessly within reach of their prey, vulnerable to attack and reliant on a strong initial blow. As expected, the female – _was she a Companion too?_ – was poorly trained in melee combat, stamping on the ground and attempting to hack at the sabre cat with her sword. _She would be much better served by heavier armour_, Almerin thought.

Almerin watched, incredulous, as the man suddenly slashed its sword across the sabre cat's back. Blood welled from the gash, marring the sabre cat's pelt. _If the werewolf's musk hadn't already ruined it_, Almerin thought, as rage began to bubble in her veins. Dropping Auriel's bow on the ground, Almerin mentally reached within her blood to grasp at the form of the Vampire Lord.

"No!" Serana pleaded, pulling at Almerin's black hair.

"Are you serious?" Almerin scoffed. "He is isolated from his pack, weakened by his fight, and he stole my prey!"

"Killing a werewolf under a darkened sun?" Serana asked, her eyes wide with fear. "The Companions will know it was us, and we do not yet know if we could defeat them in open battle!"

Almerin scowled, the temptation to transform trembling momentarily within her chest. _You're so lucky that you have never thought to challenge me, _Almerin thought as she allowed herself to relax in Serana's arms. Looking back at the coast, Almerin noted that the pair had left as swiftly as they had come, the corpse of her sabre cat the only proof that they had encroached on her territory.

"Fine," Almerin said coldly, detaching herself from Serana's arms and ignoring her sigh of relief. "But our assault on the Companions begins now. We do not cease until I have stuffed that beast with these furs".

Almerin climbed down towards the sabre cat with dagger in hand, intent on salvaging some furs to emphasize her threat. Serana followed carefully, warmth returning to her golden eyes.

"So, Rin," Serana began in a teasing voice. "Of the three arrows you shot today, exactly how many hit their intended target?"

-x-

Vilkas shuddered as he leaned against an ice wall, refusing to look at Ria. The whelp was in tears, shivering in her thin armour, silently begging him to return her gaze. _It's not as though I didn't warn her about all of this_, he thought angrily.

Vilkas pushed himself off the wall, heading back towards Whiterun while continuing to ignore Ria's pleading eyes. He had been so close to transforming in front of the girl, so close to forcibly thrusting her into the Circle's revolting secret. He could feel the beast blood pounding in his temples, calling him to give in to the transformation. He gritted his teeth as he lengthened his stride, Ria now running to keep pace with him.

"Vilkas, I'm so-"

Vilkas whirled around, eyes blazing.

"Sorry?" Vilkas roared. "Sorry? For what, exactly? For insisting that we tramp halfway across the Pale because you wanted a challenge? For rushing at the beast without waiting for my signal? For continuing to wear that ridiculous armour, even though I know you are better trained in-"

Abruptly, Vilkas cut himself off, now furious at himself. He should have known better than to listen to the child, to expect anything from her. For the thousandth time, he cursed the Companions' insistence that hunting jobs be completed in teams. Vilkas inhaled sharply through his nose and resumed his march back to Whiterun, his anger now directed towards himself.

_I should continue my journey alone_, Vilkas thought to himself. He hated being burdened by company while fighting. Even Farkas was a distraction in battle, Vilkas unable to tear his eyes from his brother for fear of his safety. That feeling, of course, was a remnant of their twisted childhood, Vilkas stilling internally at the thought of his brother in danger.

Lost in his memories, Vilkas almost missed Ria's moan. Irritated, he glanced at her, only to have to hurriedly catch her before she collapsed to the ground. Internally, he groaned. He could see Whiterun from their current position, but knew that he would now need to make camp to allow the girl to rejuvenate.

Propping the girl against a tree, Vilkas unpacked Ria's bed furs, grateful for his keen vision as he searched for kindling. Squinting at the blood red sun, Vilkas estimated that they could rest for two hours before heading back to Whiterun, which would have them safely within its walls before Aela and Skjor began their nocturnal prowl. As Vilkas looked up from his fire, he noticed that the whelp had crawled across to her bed roll, avoiding his gaze. _So be it_, he thought to himself, as he settled back to watch the flames. Mesmerised by the dancing heat, Vilkas felt his eyelids begin to droop.

_Vilkas bounded through the forest, his black fur stark against the snow that crunched beneath his feet. In the summer, his prey may have escaped him. However, the trees had long since shed their leaves, allowing him to catch glimpses of her as she fled through the forest. _

_A flash of wavy black hair, cascading down her back. _

_Pale white hands, illuminated by the soft yellow glow of her futile healing spell. _

_Golden eyes, pupils dilated in fear as she glanced backwards to see him closing in towards his kill._

_With a final surge of strength, he leaped, pinning the woman to the ground. She was stunning, her proud oval Nord face contrasting sharply with her jet-black hair and strange eyes. Golden eyes, surrounded by thick black lashes. Golden eyes that seemed to draw him in, challenging him even as she bared her gleaming teeth in defiance._

_A prize worthy of a hunt._

_Vilkas shook his head at the thought, suddenly confused. Why had he even started hunting her? What was he to do with her, now that he had caught her? _

_A booming voice echoed through the forest. _

_KILL HER, MY SON._

Vilkas jolted awake, drenched in sweat. Panicked, he looked across at Ria, feeling himself become calmer as he noted that she was sleeping soundly. Vilkas stretched his stiffened limbs, mind racing as he recalled his dream.

Hircine's curse denied him true sleep, constantly taunting him with thoughts of the hunt and the temptation of victory. This dream, however, was unusual due to its vivid target. Whereas Hircine's dreams usually focussed on the thrill of the chase and the glorious challenge of being a predator, this dream left him haunted by a pair of golden eyes and the pounding heat of blood in his temples.

Vilkas snorted to himself. If Farkas could see him now, he would say that Vilkas was brooding, that Hircine was seeking new ways to tempt him. Farkas would shake him and remind him that he had endured months of separation from the wolf blood. That this dream, although potent, would not be worth the stress of troubling Kodlak.

Relieved, Vilkas shook Ria, his eyes already fixed on Whiterun. A strong mead, a fresh meal, and a warm woman would soothe his mood, and would give him the strength to ignore Hircine's call. As he hoisted his pack onto his back, he decided to swing past the Bannered Mare on his way home. The comforts there would certainly banish any lingering thoughts of golden eyes.

**A/N: My first fic! I RP quite vividly in Skyrim, but realised when I looked back at my characters that I have started to forget those stories. I decided to jot down the story of my most recent character, and this is the result (can't believe it has taken me three years to romance Vilkas).**** Everything, of course, belongs to Bethesda, who can also take my heart if it will make TESVI appear sooner**


	2. Chapter 2: The Five Far Stars

Chapter 2: The Five Far Stars

Almerin strode through the main hall of Volkihar Keep, pausing for a moment to survey her surroundings. With satisfaction, she noted that Garan had followed her instructions with his usual precision, removing the cattle from the tables and leaving no traces of spilled blood or dismembered body parts. The tables were now set with two goblets and two decanters at each seat, for the members of her court to partake of alcohol or blood at their discretion.

_Harkon had all the subtlety of a lumberjack, _Almerin thought to herself, feet sinking into the thick blue rugs that Serana had picked out from Solitude. Any who were permitted to see this hall already knew that they were vampires, rendering red décor a little redundant. Not to mention the fact that staring at red for long periods of time caused her correspondence to appear green, especially now that her eyes had become so sensitive.

Seating herself on her throne, Almerin reached for her alcohol decanter, pouring herself a glass of Daedric Lava Whiskey. The whiskey had been a gift from Janus Hassildor, who had retired to an abandoned wizard's tower when the citizens of Skingrad had become suspicious of his longevity. Almerin closed her eyes while swallowing the whiskey, the paralysis induced by the brew giving her enough time to enjoy its sharp, spicy heat.

"At your service," rasped a voice in front of her. Almerin opened her eyes to the sight of a bowing Dremora Lord.

"Gather my court," Almerin said with a dismissive wave. As the Dremora Lord stalked away, Almerin allowed herself another taste of the whiskey. Within a minute, her court was shepherded in by the Dremora Lord, the vampires standing silently behind their seats at the two long tables in front of her.

"A challenger is near!" warned the Dremora Lord as he faded into Oblivion. Almerin smiled cynically, gesturing for her court to be seated. _When are they not trying to challenge me_, Almerin thought, observing the political machinations of her court play out before her.

As usual, Vingalmo and Orthjolf were seated closest to the high table, in direct opposition to each other. Their contempt for each other was the reason either still drew breath, as united, they would have constituted a powerful threat. Separately, though, they had their uses, and Almerin nodded at each of them before turning her attention to the other vampires.

Garan sat next to Vingalmo, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off the table. The fussy mage was a stickler for propriety, and would never pose a threat to her. Garan would always be content with his position and fiercely supportive of the Lord of the Keep, whomever that may be. Further down, Feran and Ronthil were engaged in a heated discussion about garlic, Ronthil insisting that the Cyrodilic variant could harm some vampires, while Feran adamantly refuted his claim. Next to them, Namasur gulped deep draughts of blood from his goblet, looking uncomfortable at being seated with so many elves.

_Orthjolf's prejudices have landed him a poorer alliance_, thought Almerin as she turned her gaze to her right. Fura was the only strong vampire to accompany Orthjolf, although her impatience prevented her from attaining true power. She spoke animatedly with Hestla, whose steady strength provided a natural counterbalance to Fura's more fiery personality. At the end of the table, Modhna and Rargal quietly discussed the possibility of stocking the Thrall Pen with skooma addicts, Rargal's grimace making Serana smirk as she entered the hall.

Sitting gracefully at Almerin's right side, Serana spread an assortment of books, maps and papers in front of them. Almerin raised a sardonic eyebrow as she ran her index finger over the _Songs of the Return_.

"You know, when I asked you to research the Companions, I didn't anticipate that you would limit yourself to my personal library."

"Don't think I don't see you flicking pages in crypts and tossing the books aside when you don't learn a new skill instantaneously," Serana teased. "Unfortunately, these books were dated even before I was locked in that crypt, so I doubt they would be of value to us."

Almerin nodded thoughtfully. "It, however, does make me wonder how long they spent scraping barnacles off their house," Almerin deadpanned, enjoying Serana's sudden chuckle.

Moving the books to her left, Almerin gathered her thoughts and looked towards her court.

To find every unnaturally golden eye trained towards the empty seat to her left.

_Not this again_.

Valerica had refused to return to court life, choosing to return to her laboratory when she was not busy with Volkihar's gardens. At the time, Almerin had not pressed the issue, aware that Valerica's absence would smooth the transition from Harkon's lordship to her own.

She had completely overlooked the value that tradition held to a group of immortal recluses.

As long as there had been a Lord of the Keep, there had also been a consort, albeit _in absentia_. Almerin had found herself pressed to select a consort, the vampires of her court eager to rise above their stations. Ever the traditionalist, Garan had waved off her initial complaints, primly assuring her that she would not be expected to "commit to a selection before sampling the spread".

Almerin's smothered laugh at the Garan's incongruous behaviour had been replaced by a thrill of excitement. The thought of further dominating the vampires in her Keep had sent a shock of warmth to her belly, awakening a sudden surge of lust.

The reality had fallen far short of her expectations.

Orthjolf, always first to seize on an opportunity, had been the first to approach the high table, breath laced with the Black Briar Reserve he had required to appear so confident. Alone in her chambers, his excitement had quickly withered under her critical gaze, and he had almost run from her rooms.

Vingalmo, seeking always to learn from and surpass Orthjolf, had been aloof and detached, only to finish in amusing desperation as he became aware of her unfeigned boredom. Feran had been too conventional, awkwardly uncomfortable beneath her. Hestla was a temptation, but her offer had been for both Fura and herself to join Almerin, and Almerin couldn't quite bring herself to bed someone with the name Bloodmouth.

Frustrated, Almerin had stopped allowing supplicants to approach her table. However, it didn't seem to have suppressed their appetite for power, as evidenced by her vampires' attention to the empty seat by her side.

"I tire of the Companions," Almerin announced loudly, her resounding voice startling her court out of their collective daze. "I tire of the Companions, and I declare that the court will now discuss their fate."

Immediately, Vingalmo and Orthjolf jumped to their feet, stumbling over their words in an attempt to be heard first. As always, Serana somehow managed to separate the sounds into coherent sentences as she diligently recorded the opinions discussed in the meeting.

"Let us burn their mead hall as we did the Hall of the Vigilant!"

"Let them serve us as our new thralls!"

Almerin rolled her eyes at the predictability of the two vampires. Vingalmo would love to publicly demonstrate the powers of the vampire mage by setting fire to Jorrvaskr, while simultaneously killing several of the most well-known melee combatants in Skyrim. Orthjolf correctly assumed the inclusion of such a large number of Nord fighters would bolster his position in the court. At least he hadn't suggested that they turn the Companions. Her blood was a gift to be earned, and the suggestion would be a severe insult.

"Impossible," Almerin stated coldly as she gestured at both Vingalmo and Orthjolf to take their seats. "The Jarls will not remain complacent if we burn down a structure within one of their cities," she shot at Vingalmo. "And the Beast blood is too unpredictable for us to enthral all of them, given that we do not know how well they would take to servitude," she directed at Orthjolf. Hestla started a little, before relaxing back into her seat.

Serana scribbled on a piece of paper before passing it across to Almerin.

_Former Companion_, Serana had written in her elegant script.

"Hestla, stand," ordered Almerin. "Tell me exactly what you planned to withhold from me."

Nervous, Hestla looked to Fura, who vigorously gestured at her to rise.

"When I was part of the Companions, I was too weak to be invited to take the Beast blood," Hestla stated while rising from her seat. "I did, however, often hear the Harbinger speak of a cure, of the possibility that their curse, whatever it was, could be reversible. If this were the case-" Hestla faltered, looking at Fura. Fura reached out and grasped Hestla's hand with a proud smile.

"If this were the case," continued Hestla, "We could safely enthral any werewolf by forcibly curing them first."

Orthjolf smiled triumphantly, causing Fura to exhale in relief.

Almerin tapped her fingers against her lips in consideration. Serana scribbled another note and passed it to her.

_Ronthil? _read Serana's flowing script.

Confused, Almerin looked at Serana, who was looking at her in a manner that seemed significant, although Almerin could not make sense of Serana's sudden change in topic. Serana leaned towards her.

"You've already made your decision about the Companions. I'm just trying to help you with your second decision," Serana whispered as she glanced meaningfully towards the empty chair at their table.

"Seriously?" Almerin hissed in irritation. Serana smiled innocently – as innocently as a vampire could smile -, before bending her head to her notes once more.

Looking up, Almerin directed her words to Hestla. "Describe each Companion that you remember," she commanded, reaching for a map of Jorrvaskr.

"Kodlak Whitemane was the Harbinger when I was there, I heard that he had been a mercenary of some sort in Hammerfell," began Hestla.

A third note made its way in front of Almerin.

_He can't take his eyes off you_, Serana taunted.

Almerin glanced towards the young vampire, only to see that he was, indeed, staring at her with adoring eyes. Almerin grasped Serana's quill to scribble on the back of the paper.

_He reminds me of Cu'Sith_, Almerin wrote in her decisive, bold script. _Should I tell him to 'go fetch?' _Serana choked a little at that, snatching the quill from Almerin's hand in amusement.

"Vignar would follow Kodlak around, doing whatever he asked. He didn't really care about the Companions, though; he could never forget that he came from a family with wealth and influence".

Almerin's mind wandered, pondering her options. A cure to lycanthropy would likely be well-guarded by Hircine. Only one of Hircine's chosen could fetter out his secrets, which meant that she would have to personally infiltrate the Companions. Almerin sighed, reaching for her decanter of blood. To avoid detection, she wouldn't be able to use her bloodcursed arrows, and would have to drink blood to remain strong.

"Skjor, in hindsight, was definitely a werewolf. I thought he was having a secret affair with Aela, the way they used to disappear at night and return exhausted. She was far too young for him, and I tried to warn her, but she only laughed at me and told me to stay away."

_Age shouldn't matter to vampires_, Almerin mused, pouring blood into her goblet. She had only seen twenty-two summers before being turned by Harkon, but felt much older than Ronthil, who was old enough to have seen the Nerevarine before she disappeared.

"Farkas and Vilkas were berserkers, but yet to grow into their full strength by the time I left. True Nords, the pair of them, although their dark hair and silver eyes made you wonder whether perhaps they were mongrels."

Almerin's ears pricked up at this. The thief must have been one of these two young men. Although Almerin had always had vague designs on the Companions, she knew that her sudden interest in them was partially due to the galling memory of the werewolf's silver eyes, alight with a ferocious concentration as he had butchered her pelt.

"They were quite popular with the women-"

Almerin held up her hand abruptly, cutting Hestla off. _Maybe there was some merit to keeping a consort, _Almerin thought, _if only for him to listen to this inane prattle on my behalf_.

"I have come to my decision," Almerin pronounced, as Hestla sat back down hurriedly. "I shall join the Companions, and discover whether they may be cured. If they can be cured, we shall enthral any who survive the loss of Hircine. If not, then they will meet the fate that comes to all rabid dogs."

Vingalmo and Orthjolf smirked simultaneously, automatically responding to her rousing tone.

"You will continue your usual tasks, reporting to Serana in my absence," Almerin continued, taking a sip of blood from her goblet. "If I am unable to speak to you personally, I will tell Serana what you need to know." Almerin took another sip from the goblet.

"I travel to Whiterun tomorrow," Almerin announced to a sudden rustle of muttering. "Feran, I believe you have located the Rings of Blood Magic?"

"Yes, my Lord," said Feran calmly.

"Good. Orthjolf, Vingalmo, speak with Feran. I expect those rings before I leave."

Orthjolf vaulted over his table in an effort to reach Feran and Vingalmo before they started talking. The other vampires interpreted this as a dismissal, beginning to leave the hall.

"Ronthil," rumbled Almerin, allowing her Voice to enhance the word.

Ronthil turned back to look at her in alarm, eyes as wide as those of a young doe. Serana smirked, stretching her arms behind her head.

"Approach the high table," Almerin instructed. Ronthil started, then loped towards her eagerly.

Almerin looked at him sternly. "You spent the entire court session staring at me in silence," she stated, ignoring Serana's disappointed sigh. "As a member of my court, I expect that you contribute, or at the very least, pay attention, so that you can undertake my commands. Do you understand?"

A flush spread over Ronthil's face as he nodded, face downcast. Serana put her quill down.

"Why were you staring at Lord Almerin?" Serana asked, ignoring Almerin's glare. Ronthil's face lit up as he returned his gaze to Almerin.

"Our Lord looks exactly like the Nerevarine!" he gushed.

"I look like a Dunmer?" Almerin asked, nonplussed.

"No, my Lord, forgive me, I misspoke. I was lucky enough to see the Nerevarine in Ald'ruhn, as you know. She didn't speak to me, of course. But she had the unmistakable presence of a woman with power, with purpose, with destiny. And when she did speak, the world listened."

Almerin's gaze softened as Ronthil squared his shoulders.

"Yet never shall you have your rule over me. Never shall I tremble or flinch from your power.  
>Never shall I yield my home and hearth," Ronthil recited, his eyes trained to Almerin's. "The Nerevarine spoke these words, and the words were branded into living memory."<p>

Pleased, Almerin allowed a small smile to curve her lips.

"I'm surprised you did not try to speak with her, given how captivating you make her sound."

"Ah- I was there on Berne Clan business," Ronthil stammered.

Almerin leaned forward. "What did they seek in Ald'ruhn?" she asked, always eager to gain more vampiric artefacts.

"No, I…I was just trying to be accepted into Berne Clan. I was there to convince a young child to not become a vampire."

Almerin leaned back, disappointed. "I suppose your skills in Speech served you well in that regard."

"Er…not exactly," Ronthil hedged.

Almerin frowned.

"I let him defeat me in combat," Ronthil said hurriedly, avoiding Almerin's gaze.

_Why do we allow him to be a vampire_, Almerin thought incredulously. "You are a Volkihar vampire now," she snapped. "The actions of my court reflect my power, and I will have you exhibit some strength."

Ronthil paused before lifting his eyes to meet Almerin's hard stare. "My strength lies in admitting that I am willing to submit," he breathed.

Almerin inhaled sharply.

_Speech is highly underrated as a weapon_, Almerin thought. Serana's laugh chimed, startling Almerin into the realisation that she had been gazing at Ronthil, completely slack jawed. Almerin rose abruptly.

"Then you may submit to me," Almerin said, striding out of the hall. "Tonight."

-x-

**A/N: Thanks for the comments/follows! I have never showed my work to anyone, not even family, so it's so nice to know that my work is interesting/fun for someone other than me. I have individually responded to you guys, but will use this space for any anonymous comments.**

**Guest: Love Bran and Sceolang, and I've always wished that I could raise them with Cu'Sith and Garmr! In my head, I see the DG huskies splashing about in Lake Inalta while the death hounds prowl about the necromancy stone table near Lakeview. **

**I love TES lore, especially from Morrowind and Oblivion, so I will be making minor references outside of Skyrim, as you have seen in this chapter. I don't want to clutter the A/N with explanations of the references in case they're not actually needed, but please let me know if they are, and I'm happy to add them in :)**


	3. Chapter 3: A Worthy Partner

Chapter 3: A worthy partner

_How hard can it be to find smalls in a bloody tavern_, Vilkas thought irritatedly, eyes frantically scanning the floor for the third time. The floor was strewn with clothes, the occasional dish, and one slightly sticky patch of mead, which he avoided with a grimace. But no smallclothes.

He flinched slightly as the woman behind him shifted in her sleep. _Fuck it_, he thought, giving up and carefully buckling his armour over his legs, hissing quietly at the sensation of cold metal on his groin. Silently – as silently as one could in Heavy Armour – he snuck across the floor.

"Vilkas?"

Vilkas cursed internally, hand resting on the door frame. Turning around, he met the deep brown eyes of the woman – _Sadie? Samara? – _and winced.

"I – ah. Just sorry again. I'll just – ah," he trailed off, vaguely gesturing at the door.

"Why would you apologise?" she cooed. "Come back to bed. Let me return the favour at least once."

"Nnnn – no, I do have to -". Vilkas stopped abruptly, reining in his discomfort. "I must return to Jorvaskr," he said flatly. _Too emotionless, she'll think you're angry at her_. "That is to say, thank you, but I have Companion business to attend to," Vilkas amended.

The woman – _Sara? Sapphire? -_ shrugged a slim shoulder. "If you're sure," she said suggestively, allowing her eyes to trail down his body.

Vilkas' manhood twitched painfully against his unforgiving armour.

"Certain. I really must get going," Vilkas managed between gritted teeth. Vilkas spun on his heel and marched out of the Bannered Mare, no longer caring whether the woman thought that he was angry.

_One week. One bloody week_. Since his return to Whiterun, Vilkas had remained in the Bannered Mare, allowing Ria to return to Jorrvaskr. He had subsequently drowned himself in mead and women in an attempt to forget his dream.

To no avail.

He saw _her_ in every woman he attempted to bed. The grace of her throat when the women's heads fell back in pleasure. The strength of her jaw when he cupped the women's faces for a kiss. A flash of golden defiance superimposed over the glazed eyes of his conquests.

And every time, he would startle back, unable to allow himself to come to completion while thinking of _her_. The women never complained, as he always took care of their needs long before seeking to assuage his own. However, sporting a semi-permanent erection was starting to wear on his already frayed nerves.

Crossing the threshold of Jorrvaskr, Vilkas was bowled over by a hairless frost troll.

"Guh – Vilkas!" Farkas exclaimed enthusiastically, strong arms wrapped around Vilkas within seconds.

"Gnnnnnh," choked Vilkas, unable to restrain his grin.

"Oh, sorry brother," said Farkas, immediately loosening his grip. "But Ria returned a week ago! How many women did you have at the Mare?" he bellowed.

"None," said Vilkas immediately, a dull flush colouring his neck.

"Oho!" crowed Farkas. "Making you work for it, is she brother! Now _that's_ a Nord woman!"

Vilkas disentangled himself from the brawny arms of his brother. "I was just drinking," he muttered.

"Wait, not drinking with a woman? Why drink at all?"

"The last one was a tough kill."

"You could always let me do the sabres," began Farkas hopefully.

"No," Vilkas snarled reflexively, cursing himself when he saw his brother's face fall. "No," Vilkas repeated gently. "I made a promise."

Still crestfallen, Farkas nodded. "Well now you can drink with me!" he enthused. "Just got a batch of Black Briar yesterday!"

Managing a weak smile, Vilkas shook his head. "Tomorrow, brother," Vilkas said wearily as he headed downstairs. "I really need some sleep."

_And that is all he needs to back off, Hircine_, Vilkas thought, as Farkas ambled off. Tearing off his armour, Vilkas flopped onto his bed, glaring at the ceiling of his small room. It was clear that Hircine had set him a new Hunt, and was punishing Vilkas for his reluctance to play his games.

Not that he'd even know where to find her if he were to hunt her.

_Great_. The thought of tearing through the wild parts of Skyrim in pursuit of the woman sent blood rushing back to Vilkas' aching cock. Vilkas flipped over in his bed just in time to muffle his frustrated scream with his pillow.

_So hard good. _Vilkas' screaming was abruptly interrupted by a groan, as the sudden pressure of his manhood against the bed made him rut involuntarily into the sheets.

_She twined her arms around his neck, head thrown back in pleasure as he kissed the base of her pale throat._

Vilkas's hand made its way down his body, firmly gripping his cock.

_She moaned as he nipped at her shapely breasts, which were flushed with arousal for him. Nestling his head into the crook of her neck, he stretched his body over hers, savouring the feel of her soft curves against his hard planes, her smooth legs entwined with his rough calves. Her wetness mingled with his own as he rocked his body against hers, biting her beautiful neck as she shifted towards him. Marking her as his own._

Vilkas stroked his cock desperately, beads of fluid soaking his hand and sliding across his heated skin. He was harder than he had been in a long time, the thick vein of his manhood engorged under his quivering thumb, the head almost throbbing in pain.

_He entered her swiftly, earning him another keening moan as her eyes fluttered shut with pleasure. Reaching up, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him as he thrust into her, claiming her with every push of his hips. Her pupils were large enough to consume all but the slightest rim of gold, and she bit her lip wantonly as she thrust her hips forward to meet him._

Vilkas rocked urgently into his hand, his mind a haze of warm pleasure. Panting, he increased the speed of his thrusts until he was trembling at the precipice of satisfaction, his body shaking with the effort of keeping silent as he thumbed the head of his cock.

_Blood, welling out of the gash in her throat and spilling into his mouth as life faded from her eyes._

Vilkas screamed into his pillow again as he came, his blaze of ecstasy almost immediately ebbing away into a mist of disgust and loathing. Vilkas curled into a tight ball, uncaring of the mess that he was spreading around his bed.

_What does Hircine touch that he doesn't corrupt_, he thought bitterly, as tears of frustration leaked out of his eyes. Not for the first time, Vilkas wished that he had a father to confide in, to share the burden he had so foolishly accepted as a youth. Jergen was long gone, following Vilkas' true father down his well-trodden path of disappointed hope.

The guilt crowded around him, his familiar memory of defiant golden eyes replaced by the terrifying vision of scarlet blood against pale skin. His shame had prevented him from seeking Kodlak's counsel, and he had allowed it to fester, becoming a tangible presence as he struggled to breathe against the weight on his chest. _When I'm not angry, I'm bitter_, thought Vilkas, and the remorse accompanying this realisation pushed him into a restless sleep, chasing an inferno that seemed to be chasing him.

-x-

Almerin stared into the flames of her fire while scouring off the inner membrane of her pelt. Although she had an entire horde of vampires ready to bow and literally scrape at her command, she preferred to treat her own furs, the physical action distracting her while she allowed her mind to wander.

Not that she could think of anything other than her fur, given its giant defect.

After dipping the fur into a vat of treating liquid, Almerin secured her pelt to the drying posts. Noticing a slight wrinkle, Almerin reached up to straighten the pelt, the silk cape of her royal armour shifting to reveal her curvy figure.

A loud groan was expelled behind her.

Almerin's lips quirked into a smile.

Turning around, she looked at her new bed, which she had ordered as soon as she'd realised that Harkon had actually slept in a coffin every night. More specifically, she allowed her gaze to fall on Ronthil, who was kneeling on her bed, naked, wrists tied to the top of her bedframe.

Almerin's smile grew wider as she noted Ronthil's engorged manhood, proudly jutting out in front of him in an attempt to rival the enthusiastic expression on his face. Allowing her eyes to remain on him, Almerin picked up her previously discarded leather strips.

Ronthil bucked forward involuntarily into thin air, lips pressed tightly together.

Almerin walked unhurriedly behind him, alternately stroking his face and whipping his back. Ronthil began to pant, turning wide eyes to Almerin in supplication.

Almerin laughed.

"Do you want something from me, Ronthil?"

"My Lord, I –_yes,_" Ronthil hissed, as Almerin flicked the leather strips across his slim buttocks.

"What do you want, Ronthil?"

"I-My Lord, _please_," groaned Ronthil, leaning his face into her hand and kissing it fervently.

"You want me to allow you to please me?"

"_Please._"

"Do you think you have proven that you are worth the effort?"

Ronthil moaned as he shook his head negatively, eyes fluttering shut. Abruptly casting aside her leather strips, Almerin reached over the head of her bed and unhooked the Mace of Molag Bal from its plaque.

Opening his eyes, Ronthil gasped in fear as he registered the menacing weapon. Almerin altered her grip so that its slim handle hovered a hair's breadth from his quivering lips.

"Show me how you would please me, if you had the chance," commanded Almerin, her breath coming a little faster.

Ronthil smiled before obediently opening his mouth. Allowing his tongue to flicker briefly over his own lips, Ronthil extended his tongue to lap at the tip of the Mace's handle. He worked his tongue around the tip in tight circles, occasionally pausing to suck on the tip, cheeks hollowed.

Almerin watched in fascination, as the Mace drained the blood from Ronthil's face, causing it to pool in his full lips. Determinedly, Ronthil continued to suckle at the handle, even as his arms began to weaken against her vicious knots.

"You love this, don't you." Almerin did not phrase it as a question, barely acknowledging Ronthil's weary nod. Casting the Mace aside, she peered into Ronthil's face. "How does this not oppose everything you are as a vampire? Do you not crave power, as the rest of us do?"

Ronthil looked up at her between his thick eyelashes. "There is a curious power to be gained from submission," he smiled.

_Whatever you need to believe to survive_, thought Almerin as she slashed her dagger through the ropes that held Ronthil. The slim vampire collapsed into a heap at the foot of her bed, exhausted. Disrobing, Almerin reclined on the cushions at the head of her bed, watching Ronthil as she uncorked a stamina potion.

Ronthil's face lit up.

Lying back completely, Almerin trickled some of the potion down her neck, allowing it to pool between her breasts. Crawling beside her, Ronthil hesitantly lapped at the potion, becoming more confident as the sweet taste of honey slid down his throat, reinvigorating his muscles.

Ronthil slid his tongue down the path that Almerin lay before him, pausing to swirl his tongue in the slight dip of her navel, before settling his head between her smooth legs. Pausing, he looked up beseechingly at Almerin, a silent question in his eyes.

"Take yourself in hand as you tend to me," Almerin allowed with a small smile.

Ronthil's face became so radiant that Almerin stifled a chuckle. _He probably let himself go in that moment_, she thought as Ronthil's clever tongue slid into her, caressing her gently. His slick movements became stronger, only occasionally interrupted by his own moans of pleasure.

Almerin watched calmly, as Ronthil flicked his tongue around her swollen core, his eyes darting up to seek approval. This was true domination, although slightly diminished by the realisation that she was with a vampire who slept behind a cupboard. Unbidden, the werewolf from the coast flashed into her mind, molten silver eyes replacing Ronthil's amber ones.

Almerin locked her legs behind Ronthil's head, skin suddenly flushed with desire. The added pressure and Ronthil's sudden intake of breath sent her spiralling over the edge, a breathy growl leaving her lips as she thrust gently against Ronthil's mouth, riding out her orgasm.

_Real power is only wrested from someone worth dominating._

-x-

**A/N: Thanks for the follows and reviews! This one took a while, as I have never written smut before, and I read it and re-read it until I finally decided to hit publish and be done with it. As always, I really welcome constructive feedback :)**


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